


I am Not Alive

by Zeona



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Become Human, Confusion, Connor Tries, Connor-centric, Cranky Hank, Deviant Connor, Emotional Instability, Fic reliant on reader's response, Game narration, Human Emotions, May be incomplete, POV Connor, Scene By Scene, Software Instability, Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing, deviant, hank is a dad, instability, sumo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeona/pseuds/Zeona
Summary: Connor's point of view during Detroit: Become Human.He may be more deviant than he thinks he is.





	I am Not Alive

**Author's Note:**

> I tried really hard. Enjoy.
> 
> Please read end notes.

_The first time Connor does anything unorthodox is a few months before he meets Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Before that fated meeting, he had already gained some form of self-awareness and expression. He wouldn’t have admitted it to himself then, but he was more human than he’d have liked._

The first time Connor does anything unorthodox is when he steps out of the elevator. He places the coin deftly into his back pocket and tucks his tie high against his throat exactly how he likes it. He has timed it to perfection. The doors of the elevator slide open gently.

The moment he takes a step out into the new unknown before him, information floods in and he welcomes it.

Cool lights illuminate from an aquarium. A table on the opposite side. A mildly wet floor.  He hears a distressed voice in the background, distinctly female.

He takes things one step at a time. He investigates the wet patch on the floor first. A Dwarf Gourami lies on the ground in a patch of water. It flops and splatters droplets further away.

Distantly, he finds it curious as to why it wouldn’t stay still, seeing as it might live a little longer from the wet patch on the floor. Splashing around only spreads the puddle, drying up it’s only source of survival.

It will die.

He picks it up, it’s blue sprinkled body scales and head jerking in his hand. He hesitates. Marine life is not important to his mission.  Still, neither will it hinder him. He has already picked the fish up, what harm can it do him? He turns and stands, plopping the fish back into the water in the aquarium.

He stares at the fish for little moment longer than necessary. It swims happily and safe. Alive.

Just as he straightens and moves to continue on his way, the origins of the distressed voice from moments ago draw closer.

“Oh, oh please, please, you gotta save my little girl…” A woman, accompanied by a guard, clutches to his shoulders. Her eyes are rimmed red with tears and purpled by tiredness and worry. She looks thin and frail as she clings to him, desperately begging. It takes her a moment to step back and run her frantic eyes over him. “Wait… You’re sending an android?”

She turns desperately to the guard who seems to realize his mistake in allowing her to pause even for a second. “Alright, ma’am. We need to go.”

“You can’t… You can’t do that! You- W-Why aren’t you sending a real person?” She points at him in frustration and anger as she is dragged away.

Connor is expecting it. He brushes it off as mild aggravation at this woman who is slowing him from his mission. He turns away from her. The mission. That’s his number one priority.

“Don’t let that thing near her!” She screeches.

Connor shuts everything else away and focuses on his mission.

It’s the only thing that matters.

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

He doesn't feel anything when his blood splatters against the wall. His shoulder is momentarily thrown back by the gunshot.

He feels nothing as he applies the tourniquet to the injured man lying on the balcony. He feels nothing when the threat follows the warning shot; ignores it and keeps on working.

“You can’t kill me. I’m not alive.”

He picks his truths and his lies to the deviant, keeping his eyes on his target.

He feels nothing when the android Daniel stares at him with empty eyes, blue blood flowing steadily from its wounds.

“You lied to me, Connor.”

He feels nothing as he turns from the lifeless machine.

He feels nothing when the girl's sobs reach into hysteria and he walks away.

 _Mission_ **_successful_ ** _._

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

He flips the coin twice and catches it before tightening his tie. He enters the bar, dripping wet. It's raining.  He doesn't think whoever's manning the bar will mind.

He finds Lieutenant Anderson within a short amount of time after scanning a few faces.

The man’s hair has fully greyed, hanging long and a little tangled past his ears, making the scan a little difficult to achieve but Connor knows when a target is found. A moderately well kept beard frames his jaw and lips. He stares at the drink in his hands, slouched.

Connor thinks somehow, despite the loose and sloppily made tie around his thickly layered clothes, the man still makes himself intimidating. Connor makes his move.

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife. I looked for you at the station but nobody knew where you were. They said you you were probably having a drink nearby. I was lucky to find you at the fifth bar.

When the man speaks, he doesn’t look at Connor. “What do you want?

“You were assigned a case earlier this evening. A homicide involving an android.” He gives as much information to Lieutenant Anderson as he can, assuming the man will want to know what he’s doing here.

He doesn’t sound interested. In fact, he doesn’t seem to like Connor at all; Which isn’t a surprise. It only means that persuasion will take a little longer than usual. He has no worries about getting the Lieutenant to comply with his requests. He always succeeds.

He chooses his words carefully. He wields each consonant like a surgeon with a scalpel. Decides which course is best to take to reach his goal as fast and as efficiently as possible. Lieutenant Anderson refuses to leave. He’s a stubborn man. A pity that Connor can be just as stubborn.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I must insist. My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you.”

“You know where you can stick your instructions?” Lieutenant Anderson smirks, a mocking tone to his words. Connor takes a quick millisecond to run through the words, the tiny inflexions in his voice, his posture and expression before deciding what next to say.

“No. Where?” Connor is sincere in his question. For the most part.

The Lieutenant turns to stare at him in disbelief, head tilted up as if daring Connor to say something nasty in return. He looks a little disappointed when he looks back down at his drink, muttering a grumpy “nevermind”.

Connor realizes he has made the wrong judgement. He doesn't know where he went wrong, only that he did. He scrambles for the next few words to salvage as much of the situation as fast as he can. He’s already gotten off on the wrong foot by being an android. He doesn’t need to make things worse.

He goes for relaxed.

“You know what? I’ll buy you one for the road. What do you say?” Hank says nothing but neither does he seem to disapprove. Connor pushes on. He turns to the darkly skinned man behind the counter. “Bartender, the same again, please!”

A moment while the drink is poured.

“See that, Jim? The wonders of technology. Make it a double,” Hank adds, shifting himself to get into a better drinking position.

Connor tilts his head to scrutinize the man further.   Using humour with Lieutenant Anderson works best he finds. He files that away for later study.

He waits for a moment for the Lieutenant to finish his drink. Anderson sighs heavily before giving a somewhat close-lipped smile.

“Did you say homicide?”

 _Mission_ **_successful_ ** _._

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

“You wait here. I won’t be long,” Lieutenant says after switching off the horribly loud and blasting music.

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

It seems obedience is a good sign too.

Too bad he’s going to have to disobey him almost straight away.

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

Having so many things to work around with does make things easier to reconstruct scenes. Still, it takes longer than usual to collect every scrap of evidence.

He takes in everything swiftly, making his conclusions with an assured decisiveness that Lieutenant Anderson can’t possibly doubt him.

There are three alphanumerics scrawled across the inner walls of a shower stall. ‘rA9’. Connor files it away.

He finds the pieces to the puzzles of the crime scene and places them right where they belong. When he recites every step of the scene he’s unfolded to the Lieutenant, he seems satisfied. Pleased, in fact, when he realizes Connor can trace the blue blood to the deviant.

Connor finds the deviant in the attic.

He feels nothing when the deviant pleads with him, stacking justification upon rationalities and then begging Connor to keep silent.

He feels nothing when he unhesitatingly betrays the android to the Lieutenant.

He feels nothing when the android closes its eyes in defeat. The blood splattered across the robot’s face streaks past his nose and cheek like a stamp of finality. In return, the red LED on the side of its head glares at Connor like an accusation.

He feels nothing, focused on the mission.

It’s the only thing that matters.

“Come on!” The Lieutenant roars at the rest of the men downstairs.

 _Mission_ **_successful_ ** _._

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

_The first time Connor starts feeling and thinking anything unusual is soon after he meets Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He will never be sure what triggered it. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t handled other deviant cases before._

_In truth, it was the opposite. He had completed many such cases. Yet, the Lieutenant had something about him that Connor couldn't describe. He wouldn’t admit it to himself then, but he was more human than he’d have liked._

The first time Connor starts feeling and thinking anything unusual is the day of the interrogation.

He says nothing at the Lieutenant’s vain attempts at drawing information out from the deviant. He merely analyzes the situation, reconstructs it all in his mind. Possible paths and solutions, issues to go around. Working with assumptions is never great but with times like these, one had to make do.

Deviants are unreliable. Hard to predict. Then again, so are humans. And he was built to work with and around that.

It’s not long after that Lieutenant Anderson returns, annoyed and frustrated. Connor isn’t surprised. The man likes things to go his way.

When Detective Reed raises the absurd idea of “try roughing it up a little,” Connor feels the need to speak up. Valuable information critical to a mission’s success shouldn’t be treated with such little care.

“Androids don’t feel pain. You would only damage it and that wouldn’t make it talk. Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations.”

“Okay smartass.” Connor thinks that Detective Reed probably didn’t like that he had spoken. He had only meant to protect the evidence, not show him up, however. It didn’t matter, anyway. Detective Reed was not requisite at the current moment.

The thought that he might in the future be important does occur to Connor and that he probably should be nice to the man.

He thinks he can be ~~selfish~~ practical for once. He’ll mend the relationship however he can later.

“What should we do then?” Detective Reed taunts.

“I could try questioning it,” not a single moment of hesitation keeps Connor from answering it honestly.

The burst of laughter from Detective Reed half-surprises him but he manages to keep his own reaction under wraps. He always will. He’s an android. Still, He wonders what the Detective thought he might have said. Did he think he would just give up so easily?

He’s thankful when Lieutenant Anderson hands it over to him without siding with Detective Reed even for a second. Maybe he had judged the Lieutenant’s opinion of him more harshly than he had initially thought.

After a short close-up analysis of the deviant, Connor decides that pushing a few more buttons strategically will be best. It seemed violence and threats had garnered a reaction before. Hopefully, it would pull out a favourable response this time.

Fear.

Evidence at hand.

Threatenings.

More threats; memory probe.

Truth; imminent disassembly.

Pick approach. Response.

Choose advancement. Response.

Select tactic. Response.

Decide strategy. Response.

Get down to business.

He gets more than what he bargained for. Good. It takes him nearly 7 minutes. Let them know how well he can get his job done. He needs the Lieutenant’s pride trust in him.

When the deviant shoots himself…

He feels nothing.

 _Mission_ **_successful_ **.

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

He answers Amanda’s questions with as much honesty as he can. Which isn’t really saying much since he will always be honest.

When she asks him what he thinks of the Lieutenant, he needs to take a moment to think. He tells her that he’s ill-tempered, socially inept but perhaps a good detective. At least, at some point he had been. An oxymoron all by himself. An interesting man.

Amanda seems to disapprove of him. He wonders for a second if he should feel the same. He thinks back on how he’s grown friendlier with the man since that meeting at the bar. No. He can’t harbour any ill-will towards Lieutenant Anderson. He will adapt to this strange, wild-tempered, android-conflicted human.

She reiterates how important his mission is. Reminds him who he is. He doesn’t need her to tell him. He knows.

“You can count on me, Amanda.”

“Hurry, Connor. There’s little time.”

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

He gets himself to Lieutenant Anderson’s desk early. A little too early apparently as the man himself hasn’t arrived yet. When he asks one of the officers if he knows when the Lieutenant will arrive, he’s not satisfied with the answer.

The Lieutenant may not arrive till noon.

He takes a seat beside the Lieutenant’s desk for a moment, wondering what to do. There had been no given instructions nor restrictions excluding protocol. He twists in the chair to look at the cluttered desk. Maybe it would do him well to analyse the items on the desk. Get to know his new partner.

He stands and walks around the desk to face the screen. There are post its, leftovers, closed reports and written evidences. He leaves a message on Lieutenant Anderson’s phone, the recording the plays back first sounds very like him.

He sets about exploring the rest of the desk. There’s a headphone that blasts loud crashing music when he plays it. It sounds similar to what Hank was drumming out in the car on the way to investigate the deviant yesterday. Knights of the Black Death, a band that plays Dark Heavy Metal.

He moves on. A cup of still full but cold coffee, a disgustingly fatty donut in a mostly empty donut box and an Asian plant in between the two. On his little board, there are tiny signs and slogans stuck to it. Some are sarcastic and maybe a little rude. Most of it are anti-android tags.

Connor isn’t sure how he should feel about that.

A Detroit Basketball cap hangs on the edge of the board next to a speech bubble that says “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t like you.” Sounds very Lieutenant Anderson-like.

There’s a stack of matches that comes from Jimmy’s Bar. It seems the Lieutenant frequents it often.

When he turns the chair over to take a closer look at a photo at the side of his desk, he brushes over several dog hairs. He wonders distantly if the Lieutenant doesn’t like his dog just like he doesn’t seem to like anyone else. Or maybe he’s an animal person and loves his dog.

When he gets to the photo, there are flowy, messy scrawls labelling several cops who are part of the multi-department unit responsible for the 2028 Red Ice network dismantle.. Some are nice. There are two labels with badly choiced words. And a small note that says someone owes the Lieutenant some cash.

Further up, there are reports of Lieutenant Anderson. Good ones in fact. His assumption proved true.

When the Lieutenant finally does arrive, he follows him into the Captain’s office, closing the glass door gently behind him. They are assigned to deal with any and all deviant activities. The Lieutenant isn’t happy to say the least.

“I don’t need a partner! And certainly not this plastic prick!” Lieutenant Anderson spits, jabbing a hand at Connor who stands just off to the side, in the background.

Connor who has his arms folded behind his back as usual, at attention with his eyes straight and forward, glances to the side for a moment. Something boils low in his non existent belly, twisting harshly.

He doesn’t like Connor. He doesn’t want Connor. Connor doesn’t really mind ~~because in truth he hates this.~~ He’s got a mission. He’ll work around the Lieutenant no matter how much ~~it hurts~~ trouble the older man gives him. Captain Fowler shuts down all of the Lieutenant’s protests anyway with a simple threat of taking away a badge and returning to his own work.

Connor watches Lieutenant Anderson leave the room angrily.

“Have a nice day, Captain,” and Connor leaves the room.

He closes the door gently on his way out.

As he gets closer back to the Lieutenant’s desk, he forces himself to push away everything else. Anything that doesn’t pertain to the mission is a hindrance. He can’t let that happen. He’s a machine, designed to succeed. And right now, he needs to be on good terms with the Lieutenant.

He knows the Lieutenant likes people being friendly. He wonders if doing that will ease the tension. He says a few positive statements and a word about partnership. He gets a rather grumpily said dismissal.

Lieutenant Anderson points him to his desk and he sits. Connor isn’t so ready to give up though. He persists, asking a few questions from what he’s gathered analysing the Lieutenant’s desk earlier.

When he asks about the dog, the Lieutenant glances at him suspiciously. Connor isn’t sure if he does, but he says he likes dogs. He’s seen dogs from afar. They look excitable and they don’t seem to dislike androids. Connor guesses that means he himself doesn’t dislike dogs either. So it’s not all a lie. Dogs are friendly. Unlike the Lieutenant.

He does tell Connor his dog’s name is Sumo. The smile on his face confuses Connor but he lets that lie.

He asks about the music next. He tells the Lieutenant he likes it for its energy. This one, he’s less sure than about the dog. The music is loud and clashing. It grates on his non existent nerves. Very Lieutenant-like, Connor supposes. When the Lieutenant shoots back with another question asking if he listens to music, Connor concedes that no, he does not. He thinks he would like to though, and says as much.

Lieutenant Hank Anderson seems to accept that.

He finally asks what’s on his mind. He knows it’s probably a bad idea to bring it up but he needs to know.

“A lot of people don’t appreciate having androids around… I was wondering... Is there any reason in particular you despise me?”

“Yeah…” Lieutenant Anderson nods, lips tight. “There is one.”

Connor tilts his head, waiting for an elaboration that doesn’t come. He looks away when the Lieutenant’s gaze at the computer turns a little too hateful for it to be simply something on the screen.

Connor opens his mouth to maybe ask about the basketball cap but he decides against it. The Lieutenant doesn’t seem ready for conversation any longer. He turns back to his own screen and goes to work.

He gets a lead and has to take a hard hand in persuading the Lieutenant. The man gets angry, picking up by his collar and slamming him into the wall like he’s nothing more than a plastic doll. The irony doesn’t escape him.

“If it was up to me, I’d throw the lot of you into a dumpster and set a match to it. So stop pissing me off… or things are gonna get nasty,” Lieutenant Anderson growls.

Connor isn’t afraid. He’s not alive. But he thinks something else sparks in him a little. He doesn’t know what or how to describe it. He’s thankful when a policeman intervenes, citing another incident with androids.

When the Lieutenant sets him down and leaves, Connor straightens himself, brushes off his shirt and tucks his tie tight.

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

They think he cannot hear them when he stands so far away at his place leaning against the car. He can hear everything. The rain, the squeak of boots on wet pavement from across the street, every single word.

“What are you going to do with that?” Their heads turn towards him. He keeps on looking forward, giving no indication that he’s heard anything.

The muttered “I’ve no idea,” from Lieutenant Anderson nearly goes past him, the low tones shrouded by the pitter-pattering of water hitting concrete. They remain silent for awhile.

The Lieutenant is tapping on his digital pad when he walks over to Connor who remains stock still, at attention by the car. He glances at the Lieutenant, wondering if he’ll tell Connor he’s dismissed. Maybe rough him up a little. Or worse, shoot him.

Connor doesn’t think he’s afraid.

Rain drops slip down his forehead.

He’s not.

He takes a breath.

He’s not alive.

Connor doesn’t ~~want~~ need Lieutenant Anderson to hit him or do anything untoward so he talks about the case.

“Androids don’t feel fear,” the Lieutenant scoffs.

“Deviants do.”

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

_The first time Connor starts thinking of Lieutenant Hank Anderson as just Hank is after that lunch break. He’s not really sure why he does. He’s an android. A machine built to complete a task. Formality in the work is programmed into him. Yes, it is true that he can be on friendly terms with a human but that was all on the human’s part…_

_He decides that he doesn’t see the harm in thinking of the Lieutenant as Hank anyway. It won’t change anything.. He wouldn’t admit it to himself then, but he was more human than he’d have liked._

The first time Connor starts thinking of Lieutenant Hank Anderson as just Hank is when the Lieutenant stops for a snack at a Chicken Feed stall, Connor decides he should apologize for his behaviour back at the station.

He climbs out of the car into the rain, cross the road.

The Lieutenant is in some conversation with a young black man. They seem to be making a deal of sorts. While Connor stands to the side so as not to interrupt their conversation, he takes the time to analyse the man. Aabdar Pedro. His findings are a little worrying.

Before he can decide on the next course of action, Lieutenant Anderson has already shaken hands with him, discreetly exchanging the money. Pedro scuttles off and Connor slides in to take his place, dripping and sleek from standing in the light rain.

Hank stares at him and expresses his mild annoyance and frustration.

“What is your problem? Don’t you ever do as you’re told? Look, you don’t have to follow me around like a poodle.” He says the last word in disgust. Like he hates dogs.

Connor thinks distantly that Sumo must be sad if the Lieutenant doesn’t like him. Outwardly, he blinks, looking down and away as if in embarrassment. Connor wonders if by choosing to come out and make amends now was a bad choice and if it will make things worse. He hopes not.

He shifts uncomfortably, pursing his lips just a little before speaking, not taking his eyes off the pavement just yet. “I’m sorry for my behaviour back at the police station. I didn’t mean to be unpleasant.” By the time he’s finished with his quick apology, his eyes have drifted back up to gauge the Lieutenant’s reaction.

Lieutenant Anderson chuckles lowly, clearly amused. “Wow…” He shakes his head, still smiling. “You’ve even got a brown-nosing apology program!” He doesn’t look at Connor but he doesn’t seem to hate him any more than before either. “Guys at CyberLife thought of everything, huh?”

Grey, the man preparing the Lieutenant’s food, finishes up. Anderson thanks him, grabbing the grossly unhealthy hamburger and drink before turning to leave.

“Don’t leave that thing here,” Gary calls to Lieutenant Anderson, pointing at Connor who has yet to move.

“Huh, not a chance,” the Lieutenant huffs, pausing mid step and turning a little so as to respond. “Follows me everywhere.”

Connor doesn’t think he means it in a bad way this time. At least, he hopes so.

The Lieutenant stands under a sheltered table nearby the Chicken Feed stall, unpacking his burger. Connor stands across him, his hands folded on the tabletop. Before Lieutenant Anderson takes the first bite, Connor decides that it’s a good time to talk.

“I don’t want to alarm you, Lieutenant, but I think your friends are engaged in illegal activities.” Connor hopes that the Lieutenant isn’t angry about it.

Quite the opposite. It appears the Lieutenant already knows and can’t be bothered with it. He tells Connor that if no harm is done, all crime is fun. Or that was the gist of it anyway.

Connor looks away thoughtfully. Then, because he has the chance, he says, “Your meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories and twice the cholesterol level.” Lieutenant Anderson glances at his burger curiously, tilting it a little in his hands. Connor looks pointedly at the burger. “You shouldn’t eat that.”

“Everybody’s gotta die of something,” the Lieutenant replies, taking a bite out of the hamburger anyway.

Connor’s lips twitch. Another thought occurs to him.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?” Anderson shrugs. “Why do you hate androids so much?” Connor blurts out. The rain suddenly seems a lot louder.

There’s a moment of silence that seems to stretch into years. Lieutenant Anderson’s blue eyes look sorrowful and searching. “I have my reasons,” he finally says and that’s the end of that. Connor wonders what’s different this time that the Lieutenant doesn’t mind him asking.

He thinks that since he’s asked so many personal questions to the Lieutenant, he should let the Lieutenant ask something in return.

“Is there anything you’d like to know about me?” Connor asks.

“Hell, no.” The Lieutenant sounds close to scoffing and Connor worries for a second that he’s made a mistake. “Well, yeah, um…” He raises his hand, pausing from his burger for a while as he searches for the right words to say.

The Lieutenant scrunches up his face, not exactly looking at Connor but somewhere else, deep in thought. The whole postering lasts barely a second.

“Why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?”

Connor goes into a brief explanation about how CyberLife had intended for it to facilitate his integration smoothly and harmoniously with humans. Hank snorts and tells him that they failed. Although not in so nice words. He then asks if he’s dealt with deviants before.

Connor recalls the most recent case with the android, Daniel.

“I managed to save her,” Connor finishes.

“I guess you've done all your homework, right. Know everything there is to know about me.” Lieutenant Anderson raises his eyebrows, prompting Connor to appease to his statement.

Connor wonders if he should lie. Would telling the truth make their budding friendship worsen? He decides that Hank probably prefers honesty in this case. He did ask after all, and Connor suspects the Lieutenant knows he did do his so called homework.

There’s no point in lying.

“I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases who became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit.” Hank Anderson lifts his brows and nods to acknowledge it. He looks down at his burger. “I also know you've received several disciplinary warnings in recent years and,” here, Connor pauses to take a closer look at the Lieutenant, “you spend a lot of time in bars.”

“So, what's your conclusion.” Lieutenant Anderson tilts his chin up at him, eyes half lidded and a quirk to his lips. Connor thinks that it’s not a very nice expression. He’s daring Connor to make his judgement.

Connor hesitates for half a second. Stick to a programmed response or… “I think working with an officer with,” He searches for the words to say, speaking slowly, “personal issues is an added challenge. But-” Here, the Lieutenant is looking at him intently now, no longer smirking that anger-tinted smile. “-adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.”

Connor winks.

His LED at the side of his forehead flickers for a moment, signalling the end of the conversation.

“I just got a report of a suspected deviant. It's a few blocks away.” Connor looks away from Hank, mildly uncomfortable at the lack of response from the normally outspoken man. We should go have a look.” He stares at Lieutenant Anderson for moment, turning away from the table. “I'll let you finish. I'll be in the car if you need me.”

He can feel eyes boring into the back of his head as he heads across the street, back to the car.

Hank takes a sip of his drink thoughtfully, nodding his head to himself.

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

“Hey Conner! You ran out of batteries or what?” Hank has turned to stare at him curiously, arched brows furrowed.

Connor blinks, realizing the elevator has come to a stop. “I’m sorry. I was making a report to CyberLife.”

Hank looks a little disturbed by that though Connor can’t fathom why.

“Well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?”

Connor takes a moment to come to himself, realizing they are on opposite sides, him on the inside of the boxed lift and Hank on the outside. That must seem odd.

“No! I’m coming.” He quickly follows Hank and they discuss the reported deviant suspect. When they knock on the door to the flat, there is no answer. They break in to search the place. There are pigeons everywhere, the walls looking decrepit and the stink even worse. It looks uninhabited.

Hank makes his distaste for the pigeons and everything in the flat in general very clear. There’s a lot of cursing and complaining and snarking from him. Connor doesn’t mind. He finds little bits of evidence. A military jacket, a forged ID… And three alphanumerics scrawled across a wall.

“rA9, written 2471 times,” Connor says.

They move on. He reconstructs a quick scene, noting the presence of whoever it was at the time they knocked. Connor finds blue blood and an LED plucked out in a sink. An android then. The probability of it being a deviant goes up even higher.

He reconstructs another scene with the evidence still fresh on the scene.

The android is still here.

And it knows that Connor has figured it out. It leaps down from the rafters, knocking Connor down and disturbing a flock of pigeons that flap Hank’s way.

The chase is on.

The deviant is fast and smart. It doesn’t just focus on running. It throws obstacles in Connor’s way, takes a jagged route with twists and turns. Connor has no easy time keeping up. He takes every fast route he can find. Speed is of the essence.

He can’t fail his mission.

He can’t fail Hank.

  
He barges past people, slides down glass and through crops. He tracks the deviant’s route as best as he can, trying to think ahead. He has to leap and climb and twist and turn. He jumps on a train after the deviant, following it’s every step. He pushes off walls, jumps over more plants. He’s blinded for a moment by tall leafy greens he can’t be bothered to identify when he hears Hank’s voice.

Hank!

He bursts out of the thick crops just in time to see the capped deviant push Hank over the ledge. His heart stops. Time stops. Hank manages to cling onto the edge with an arm. It takes Connor a fraction of a second to calculate his choices.

Hank has a nearly 90% chance of climbing over and saving himself. If he stops to help him up, the deviant will escape and-

There’s no need to think or hesitate any further. He dashes forward, dragging the Lieutenant up by a firm grip and a strong hand. Hank collapses onto the roof, breathing heavily and cursing.

“We had it!” Hank grunts, pushing himself back up with a hand on his knee.

Connor watches him, sending a quick glance to make sure the rest of the older man is okay. “It’s my fault. I should have been faster,” Connor says, looking off to where the deviant had last been seen, racing off to who knows where.

“You’d have caught it if it weren’t for me,” Hank wheezes. Connor turns to look at him. “That’s alright. We know what it looks like. We’ll find it.” He breathes heavily between each phrase, looking back at Connor, gaze nearly piercing.

Connor isn’t even panting. It’s because he doesn’t breathe.

He’s not alive.

Hank turns towards a doorway, probably where he came in to jump the deviant while Connor was off on his wild chase. Connor can’t help but feel bitter disappointment at having failed. It shouldn’t have happened.

“Hey, Connor,” Hank pauses, looking back at the android. Connor turns around quickly, bracing himself for some sort of reprimand, or a quip that he _should have_ been faster.

Hank quickly seems to change his mind, smiling and giving a lazy one-handed wave. “Nothing.” He turns to head down the stairs.

  
Connor tilts his head a little.

Maybe the mission hadn’t been as much of a failure as he’d thought.

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

Amanda is displeased. He knows the second he opens his eyes because it’s raining just like in the real world. He has an umbrella in his hand but he doesn’t use it. He follows the white path, greyed by the dark clouds above. He finds Amanda, white dress and yellow side cape pristine and stark against her dark skin.

He opens the umbrella when she bids him to go on a walk with her. She voices her disapproval at his inability to capture the deviant. He takes the moment to relate his own disappointments.

“I should have been more effective.” He looks a little lost, eyes distant as he replays it all in his head. He could’ve abandoned Hank, yes, and he would probably have survived too. Still, Connor won’t take back his decision. Saving Hank was more important. He doesn’t say any of these out loud. He keeps that to himself.

He has a feeling if he didn’t, something might happen.

She doesn’t comment about his spoken statement, instead asking him if he’s learnt anything. He relays to her the new revelations and evidences found.

“You came very close to capturing that deviant.” She interrupts him when he’s taken pause in his words. Something in him runs cold and he looks ahead, even as she turns her gaze upon him. “How is your relationship with the Lieutenant developing?”

He contemplates his answers before replying. “He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof. He didn’t say anything but he expressed it in his own way.”

Connor’s taken a few steps faster than her she speaks again. Even as the rain pours down around them, she remains dry although she is no longer under the umbrella’s reach. There’s no time, she tells him. The media is nearly onto them.

“I will solve this investigation, Amanda.” She tilts her head and something sharp digs into his chest, dark and ugly. He’s reminded without a single word from her that he’s already failed once. “I won’t disappoint you,” he assures her. There is no doubt in his belief, no fissure in his confidence.

“A new case just came in. Find Anderson and investigate it.” She walks past him, back the way they came. Connor tracks her movement until reality bleeds back into his eyes.

**_RK800RK800RK800_ **

Connor takes a cab to Hank’s house. It’s still raining. He comes to a stop in front of a nice place. Big. Spacious. Clear bricks make up the bottom of the house and the porch. The rest are smoothed over and painted white. Compared to his messy desk, Hank’s house looks in good shape.

Connor goes up to the door, knocking his hand against it. He thinks something barks inside. “Lieutenant Anderson?” When there’s no reply, he presses the buzzer and beeps raggedly loud and long. “Anybody home?” He calls.

No response.

He presses the buzzer one last time for a ridiculously long amount of time. He walks out into the rain, circling the house. The lights are on in the back and when he draws in for a closer look, he sees a cluttered table and a toppled chair. The lieutenant lies limply on the inside.

Connor quashes the rising panic, smashing through the lower window to get access into the house. He pushes himself up, ready to pull himself in when he realizes that probably won’t work. He’s too big. And his size would mean awkwardly kicking himself into the room. He takes a few steps back, braces himself and takes a short run.

He pivots, tucks in and rolls through the window. He grunts as he crashes against the shattered window glass on the floor. He’s just about to rise quickly to go to Hank’s aid when he finds himself face first with a humongous dog.

“Easy!...”

An incredible dog of incredible size. Eyes encircled by black patches stare back at him. His upper head is brown and the rest is white. His mostly white body moves close, a huge mass of flesh.

“Sumo,” Connor hastily recalls the dog’s name, raising a hand defensively. It won’t do him any good to be chomped up by a dog right before he could check on the Lieutenant.

When he barks at him, he flinches back, fear and panic written across his face for a moment, erasing his usual expression of calm and control. “I’m your friend,” he chuckles nervously, “see?”

His hand pats the air placatingly. “I know your name. I’m here to save your owner,” he says, backing up when the dog noses at him.

The dog licks his own nose, snuffling before turning around as if he understood Connor. Sumo pads across the kitchen to gobble up more food. Connor raises his brows, wondering why he isn’t more worried for Hank.

Maybe it’s because Sumo knows that help has arrived in the form of a window-breaking, deviant-hunting android.

When he gets around to check on Hank, he’s relieved to find that the man is merely knocked out drunk though a discarded gun lies close-by with a single bullet in the rounds.

“Lieutenant,” he urges, knelt on one knee. His one arm is propped up on the other knee, reaching out hesitantly when there’s no response. He slaps Anderson’s’ cheek lightly and the man clears his throat of the whiskey probably clogged in his throat. He groans but doesn’t awaken.

“Wake up, Lieutenant,” Connor calls louder. Hank’s eyes crack open a fraction but he’s nowhere near lucid or actually awake. A small spark of irritation follows. A sharp smack jerks him awake. “It’s me, Connor.”

Hank curses at him, slurring loudly and trying to talk over him..

“-Hey! Leave me alone you-”

“I’m going to sober you up for your own safety. I have to warn you, this may be unpleasant-”

Connor ignores some more colourful language and a demand for him to leave and keeps talking, even as he pulls Hank’s arm across his shoulders, bringing his own arm to support the man’s back. It takes him a moment to pull the dead-weight of a drunk man up but he manages.

The Lieutenant’s head lolls backwards and Connor shifts it into a more comfortable position.

“Thank you in advance for your cooperation,” Connor tells Hank before shuffling him forceful towards the door. Most layouts of houses remain the same so Connor isn’t too worried about finding his way to a shower.

Lieutenant Anderson voices his displeasure in grunts, scrambled words and letters mashed together along with grunts and hollers. None of it makes sense. Connor brushes off any and all insults. The drink wasn’t helping the Lieutenant think any clearer.

“Sumo!” Hank slurs. “Attack!” The dog barks once but rather mildly and makes no move whatsoever to do as commanded. “Good dog. Attack!” Connor is amused but only a little.

He leans the man against a wall while he opens the door to the washroom. Hank mutters something about throwing up. Conner takes a moment to take a look over at him to ensure he won’t actually regurgitate any of the whisky he’s consumed before pushing the door fully open.

Hank stubbornly tells Connor to leave him alone when he drags him into the bathroom. He clings on to the side of the doorway childishly until Connor tugs him free, dragging him to sit on the edge of the tub, back facing the wall.

He registers in the corner of his eye several sticky notes on the mirror. He puts it in the back of his mind for later. He thinks he recognizes a pink note that says “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t like YOU”, with the last word bolded and capitalized.

“I don’t want a bath, thank you,” Lieutenant Anderson grumbles, pushing himself up.

“Sorry, Lieutenant. It’s for your own good.” Connor puts out a firm hand, gently pushing back down until he falls back onto the edge and slips into the tub itself. When he turns on the shower, dousing Hank with water, he yells and thrashes until Connor turns off the tap.

He seems more lucid now, greeting Connor rather rudely like he’s just realized the android is in his house.

“A homicide was reported 43 minutes ago,” Connor explains his presence. “I couldn’t find you at Jimmy’s bar so I came to see if you were at home.” He lets Hank rant a little before he speaks up again. “Lieutenant, you’re not yourself.”

“Beat it, you hear me! Get the hell out of here!” Hank stumbles to his feet, voice rising in anger. The sudden vertigo must have hit Hank hard because he sways, tipping backward and in precarious danger of hitting his head.

Connor’s hands shoot out to grasp him by the torso, stabilizing him and setting him down carefully on the edge of the tub closest to the yellow-tiled walls. Lieutenant Anderson hangs his head tiredly, bracing himself with his hands.

Connor finds the whole situation rather amusing now that Hank has settled.

“I understand,” Connor says, mock knowingly, turning around and walking for the door. “It probably wasn’t interesting anyway. A man found dead in a sex club downtown.” Connor shrugs, a smile tingling his lips. “Guess they’ll have to solve the case without us.” Amusement tinges his voice as he pauses at the doorway to the corridor.

“You know, probably wouldn’t do me any harm to get some air,” Lieutenant Anderson calls after him. When Connor glances back, he has a hand on his belly, looking a little ill this time. “There’s some clothes in the bedroom there.”

Connor nods. “I’ll go get them.”

When he returns with Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s clothes folded under his arm, the man himself is bent over the toilet bowl, hurling like his life depends on it.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” Connor asks, concerned.

Hank coughs and hacks to clear his mouth, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah… Yeah… Wonderful,” Hunk muttered weakly. “Just uh, give me five minutes, okay?”

“Sure,” Connor says, taking his leave just as Hank returns to throwing the liquid contents from his gut, into the toilet bowl.

He closes the door to the washroom tight behind him, quickly escaping the ugly noises of a vomiting man by entering the living room. He decides to explore a bit. Get to know his friend partner.

The television is on, playing some news report. He pays it no mind and continues his search for more intriguing facts about Lieutenant Anderson. He finds more music. An Autumn Blues disk. He concludes that Hank probably enjoys Jazz or music of that sort.

He goes back to the kitchen, where he first arrived at and heads for the table. An unfinished plastic cup with noodles in it, pizza boxes and several empty cups. A picture frame lies face down.

When he turns it over, he sees a picture of a young boy. He analyzes it and his scanners tell him the boy’s name is Cole. Cole Anderson. Deceased at the age of six. Connor thinks he might feel sad at this new revelation. He wonders how Hank must feel.

Then, he thinks about all the drinking and he can take a guess. Not very good, he supposes. He puts it down hurriedly, like he’s not allowed to touch it. He isn’t, probably.

Just as he’s about to turn away from the kitchen, he remembers the pistol on the floor, discarded from earlier, when Connor had dragged Hank up and out. He picks up the gun, handling it gently, like it might shatter in his hands.

He hesitates before calling out to Hank in the bathroom, “What were you doing with a gun?”

“Russian Roulette!” Hank hollars back. “Wanted to see how long I could last. Must’ve collapsed before I found out.”

Suicidal tendencies? When Connor spins the chamber, the single bullet settles, ready to be shot.

“You were lucky. The next shot would have killed you,” Connor replies without even thinking.

Connor blinks. Would Hank be upset about that? Or would he be relieved? Did Hank really want to die? He’s not sure what to think. What would have happened if Hank hadn’t been overly drunk? What would have happened if Connor hadn’t made it to his house on time?

Could he have broken into the Lieutenant’s house only instead of finding an unconscious man, he would have found a dead one?

He recalls the notes in the bathroom. _‘SHAVING OR NOT’.  ‘Keep smiling_ ’. Something harsher twinges in Connor’s mind but he pushes it away. Now is probably not the time. He sets the gun back down on the floor. He doesn’t want to disturb anything or move anything out of place.

It feels like a crime scene.

Only this time, no one is dead. And the only culprit for attempted murder is the victim himself.

When Hank exits the bathroom, he’s freshly showered and changed. Connor looks him over, noting the loosely looped tie, Lieutenant-style and the thick coat. A smile twitches the corner of Connor’s lips.

Sumo pads over the Hank’s side, looking up at the man looming over him.

“Be a good dog, Sumo,” Hank mutters fondly, looking down at the floppy-eared dog. “I won’t be long.”

As they leave the house, Connor makes a silent promise to Sumo that he’ll bring Hank back safe and sound after all this.

He deserves nothing less.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried as best as I could and I'm still uncertain how to move on with this. If you would like to see more, or maybe for me to move on to a specific scene afterwards, I'm quite willing to. Or perhaps even a scene I imagine after D:BH. So please, if you want to see more or have a request of any sort, just comment down below what you'd like me to write, whether in a seperate fic, a continuation of my previous fics or even of this one.
> 
> Uh. I tried to record everything down, really I did. But the whole thing was like. 3 or 4 hours long on Connor's side alone and there were so many desicions. I wrote up to this point and it took hours to even write a small part and I realized I'd taken on a project far too complex for me to write to such detail no matter how I wanted to.
> 
> I've always had so many personal insights in evey scene Connor was in or every tick he had that when I first started this weeks ago, I wanted to really just write down what I thought it all meant. And at the time I didn't really think about the implications of doing such a thing. Honestly I didn't think I would take so long to write a single scene. I missed out several scenes still, I think. 
> 
> I'm sure there are many mistakes still. I tried to look through but it was quite tiring honestly, after the first few scenes so I gave up halfway. I didn't want to leave it resting on my dash since I put quite some effort into it so I'm leaving this fic's future up to you! The response may not be positive but still, I hope you enjoyed this one.


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